


Breezeblocks II

by hellhoundsprey



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha Jared Padalecki, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Barebacking, Beta Jake Abel, Beta Jensen Ackles, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Breeding Kink, Cock Cages, Cuckolding, Fucking Machines, Humiliation, Jake bottoms for the machine, Jealousy, Knotting, Married Couple, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Relationship Issues, Rough Sex, Top Jared Padalecki, Unresolved Tension, Whump, emotional cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: Jake remains in denial until the very last moment. (The sequel to"Breezeblocks".)
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jake Abel, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 25
Kudos: 76





	Breezeblocks II

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isoughtyouout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isoughtyouout/gifts).



The guy in the passenger seat smells like Jake’s husband’s pussy. Despite the shower. Despite the good coffee from the machine that had been a Christmas present from Jensen to Jake a couple years back (if you love anything, it’s a good cup of coffee in the mornings, right?).

Jared smacks gum while he plays with his phone. “You remembered to ask to get off early today, right?”

Eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel, Jake grumbles, “Yeah.”

“Great.” He can hear Jared shifting in his seat, knees far apart. The air in the entire car seems to move with him, mold to him. The radio cheers about good weather today, isn’t that just wonderful? “I’ve got some friends helping me with the heavy stuff, but I guess every vehicle counts, y’know.”

Jake directs them through the slowly easing morning rush. From their suburbs into downtown, the dirty-looking corner of a street where Jared has been renting his little studio apartment. Jake pulls over.

“Get out of my car,” he orders. No heat. Jared doesn’t deserve that. Anything, really.

The Alpha scoffs at him like a moody teen. Detangles his overlong limbs from the seatbelt, the weird position he’s pretzeled himself into. “Geez, all right, calm down.” He reaches into the back, grabs his bag. His weekend bag—now saggy and empty since he’s left most of its contents over at their place; one box less, he’d joked.

Jake taps his ring finger on the wheel, squeezes. “Dude,” he warns. “Would you mind? I’ll be _late_. Get the _fuck_ out of my car!”

“Love you too,” says Jared, finally hauling himself out of the door, onto the sidewalk.

The door hasn’t even snapped back close by the time Jake’s already taking off.

~

Jake glances at the clock. Back at the TV. World’s Strictest Parents—soccer—weather— cartoons—ads.

The bowl he reaches into is empty. He frowns, sighs. Sinks deeper into the couch, knuckles at his eyes.

God, they should be finished by now, shouldn’t they?

He mutes the TV and listens. Quiet, now, he thinks. Finally. He turns the TV off for good, puts away the empty bowl of snacks, the glass, the candy wrappers. He listens again. Nothing, still.

The house feels different since Jared moved in. Moved in for real, now.

Jared’s shoes and jackets in the mudroom. Jared’s cups in their kitchen. The weird armchair huge enough to, in fact, hold the ridiculous size of him, but which kinda clashes with the rest of their living room set. Jensen says he doesn’t mind, he actually kinda likes it, maybe we should thrift more often, too. Jared’s toothbrush in the master bathroom, Jared’s shed hair in the Dyson V11.

Jake tiptoes through the bedroom he owns, the bathroom he owns. Cleans popcorn out of his gums and flosses. He leaves the light off.

A not-so-nice shove to Jared’s stupid head. “Urgh, hey…”

Jake whisper-snarls, “That’s _my_ side.”

Low, “Dude,” and a shuffle; disgruntled face for a disgruntled himself Jake. “There’s more than enough space, fuck off.”

Underneath that arm, Jake’s mate breathes deep and asleep.

Jake ends up—climbing onto Jensen’s side (after grabbing a spare blanket from the linen closet). Jensen between Jared and him, long gone, sleeping peacefully, Jake glares—at the mess of Jared’s hair on his pillow. Jared’s bare back, the bulge of his shoulders, stomach-down on Jake’s bed. Their bed.

The sheets are wet underneath Jake.

~

Of course, he’s thought about it. Divorce.

Jensen moves slow in the mornings. Heavy and tired like it’s all too much, like he can’t possibly stand another day—at least until he’s finished his first coffee. You can’t talk to him, touch him, before that.

Jake hates that Jared has mastered how to handle morning-Jensen so immediately. How naturally, how respectfully he gives him space. Like they have been doing this for years. Like they’ve known each other forever. More married than Jake and Jensen have been so far.

How easy everything— _is_ , for Jared.

How nothing seems to bother him. How he’ll shrug his shoulders and just tell Jake, “Just quit if you hate it that much,” like Jake hasn’t actively been climbing up Mark’s ass these past years _for a reason_ , like nothing of it matters. His sacrifices. His hardships.

Jared with his freelancing. Carefree, oh, the money will come eventually, I have my patrons, you know?

He doesn’t know anything. Jake can’t believe he managed to keep his apartment for so many years. Mid-thirties, just like Jensen and him, but Jake can’t help but think of him as—younger, by a stretch. College-dumb. Unscathed by real life. By—commitments, and responsibilities.

How he watches Jake throwing together some dinner and can’t help but gawk.

(Jared knows how to shake water and protein powder in a bottle. Knows which buttons to push on the microwave to thaw bland chicken and broccoli. Jensen swears he’s witnessed him whipping up decent omelets, but Jake has yet to find proof.)

“Wow,” he says, around a mouthful of pickles, homemade salad dressing, blanched spinach. “This is amazing.”

The thought of just…walking out has been on Jake’s mind a lot, lately. Has been tantalizing with how his husband chooses some feral Alpha over him day by day, opportunity after opportunity. All those years down the gutter. Like their vows never meant anything to him in the first place. Like Jake is so—easy to replace.

Jake thinks of—the mortgage. The house. The cars.

His credit score. His job.

His parents had fallen for Jensen on the spot. Of course they did. (Who wouldn’t?) Jake’s mom keeps Jensen’s and his wedding photo dead-center on the fireplace mantel. Not even Jake’s adorable nieces and nephews can keep up with…that.

Jake will never forget Mark’s face when Jake brought his husband along to that Christmas dinner. How it had felt, to, to—be seen as worthy. Mark’s eyes wide with disbelief, because, yeah, that’s _Jake’s_ husband. _Jake_ put a ring on that. Choke on that, asshole.

Losing Jensen would mean—losing all that. All the hard work of the last almost-decade. And all because of—Jared.

Padalecki. Gym shorts and big yawns, bigger hands.

Kissing behind Jensen’s ear, during breakfast, carefully timed one and a half cups in. Hugging him from behind and cooing, “Can’t you just get in an hour later today? Just today, baby,” like Jake can’t hear them.

~

The sink of his heart is immediate with Jensen’s uttered, “No,” with the push of Jensen’s hand against his wrist.

Close, “Seriously?” and Jensen just gives him that—look. The one you’d give a child who hasn’t grasped a simple fact after you’ve repeated yourself too many times already.

Jake rubs his palm over that shoulder, clavicle, the very beginning of Jensen’s throat.

“Honey, c’mon.”

Again, “No,” firmer, and he wrenches Jake’s hand off him as Jake thumbs over one of Jared’s fading bite marks. “Not tonight. I dunno. Can we just watch the movie, please?”

“I haven’t had you to myself in so long,” and he can see Jensen withdrawing even as he still speaks. Is already gone, right here, in Jake’s arm. Jake searches that face, the decisive pinch of the mouth Jensen let him kiss just a moment ago. Turned away, now. “Jensen, please.”

“I asked,” murmured over the movie soundtrack, over racing cars and metal. “I asked, but you said no.”

“Yeah, because I don’t _want_ —”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” and Jensen sits up for that, plucks himself out of Jake’s arms for that. Glares down at him, hurt and distant and Jake feels pale with it, feels so utterly alone in this. “This, here? It’s no longer exclusively about what _you_ want, Jake.”

Jake sleeps on the couch that night. And the night after that. And the one after that. By his own choice. It’s what he _chooses_.

Jared gives him puppy eyes. Jake wants to punch his lights out.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. He means it.

They ask him again, that night. Like they still think he’s into—that. That he’s depraved and desperate enough to give in, be a part of—whatever they think they are. Like Jake can spin on his heels, do a somersault and cheer that yeah, sure, of course, whatever you ask, I’m nothing but a spineless monkey anyway, aren’t I! But, no. No.

He won’t— _can’t_ —give Jared the satisfaction.

Jared, already topless, already kissed on the neck, shrugs his shoulders at him.

“Your loss, man,” he says.

They close the bedroom door, this time.

~

Discovering a new scent mark around the house gut-punches Jake anew, every time. Jared never exactly hid them, but he’s getting—bold.

The kitchen chairs. The staircase railing. Jake’s shaver. Jake’s car.

He nearly churns a molar to shit when he figures the Alpha marked his tie, too. He attempts to tone it down with the cheap deodorant in the restroom at work, but the scent comes through eventually, no matter how often he tries.

“Little stressed, Ackles?” and Jake puts on an easy (even if thin) smile, tells his boss, “Oh, not really, no,” and Mark hauls another binder on top of his desk, pats it lovingly.

“Good, because I kinda need this done by today. No problem, right?”

Jake smiles. “Right.”

~

They are so loud. Every night. During the day, too, whenever they’re both free. (Jared seems to always be free. He transfers his little share of the utilities, sure, but Jake can’t help but be skeptical about it.)

Jensen’s strangled little, “Oh,” like he’s still surprised how it feels. Like he hasn’t had the Alpha rutting into him for all these months, like the knot pulsing to fullness inside of him is still—new. Like he can’t get enough.

On his side of the bed, Jake curls in a little tighter. A little firmer.

Eyes closed, he can almost imagine that it’s him instead of Jared.

He’s got his arm wedged between his legs, the rock-hard line of his cock. Jensen’s scent, so close—the memory of how he’d smell with Jake, that mouth-watering heavy tang of them, together. Jake’s hips move discreetly.

“Mmh. There you are.”

Jared’s knee bumps into the small of Jake’s back—throws him off, eyes wide in the dark, heart in his throat.

Jensen moans like it hurts, now.

“So tight on me. Look how pink you are, baby, so fucking _perfect_ for me.”

“I, I’m—”

“Yeah?” and Jake just hears Jensen’s desperate _uh-hum_ , the wet squelch of them kissing, of Jared rocking them together, churning himself deep. “Go ahead, baby, c’mon. C’mon, sweet thing, there you go…!”

Jake’s eyes press shut with Jensen’s relieved sob. The peak of his scent, finally, flooding the room with his pheromones, close enough to _taste_. Jake grabs himself through his pajamas, strokes himself once, twice, and follows along—gasping, tensing. He hates—this. Jared, clearly able to scent him. What he’s doing. What he just did.

Jared’s pussy-deep, “Good little bitch,” might be slurred against _Jensen’s_ teeth, but it’s Jake who shudders in disgust for it.

~

They had been each other’s first.

Jensen had been shy about it, nearly hesitant. Can we try this, can we try that? He didn’t particularly enjoy giving head, so Jake didn’t push it.

It’s all just so…surreal.

The game is on, but all Jake has eyes for is Jensen’s pinking face between Jared’s legs. The stretch of his lips as he does his best—his very best. Still not enough, though.

Jake wants to slap at that hand that fists itself into his husband’s hair (the longer strands on top, sun-kissed at this time of the year), that hauls Jensen in—makes him take it, more than his throat biologically should be able to handle. And, yeah, Jensen gags painfully loud—is held down through it, worked through it.

“He ever do that with you?”

Jake looks at Jared, who looks straight at him with a smile flirting around his mouth.

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

It’s the shock. The paralysis. Half-dark and cozy with the AC, the buzz of a couple of beers in everyone. Jake can’t help but sit and watch.

Jared makes Jensen do all the work, see-saws him with his grip in his hair. Tears and spit and Jensen heaves dramatically every now and then, but he doesn’t fight it. Not one bit.

Kneels, still all the way dressed. Comfortable and easy, because this, apparently, is normal.

The slide gets wetter with every stroke. Louder, too.

Jake’s cock throbs idly in his jeans, against the inside of his thigh. His fingers skim along the bottle in his hand, balanced on his leg. Jared doesn’t mind him watching. Jake has figured out that much.

“His lips, man. Makes me want to blow just looking at them.”

Jake can—tune him out. Can just focus on the noises Jensen’s fucking out of his own throat with how he moves, how tight he sucks his cheeks in despite the daunting girth of the Alpha’s cock. How he’s stretched so wide around it, his lips already sore-looking and puffy, dark-pink. The heat in his face, the sheer, focused bliss in his closed eyes; the pinch of his brows.

“So fucking silky inside,” and, yeah, Jake can tell. How swollen Jared’s cock is by now, how well taken care of. Sloppy with Jensen’s spit, and it strings thick between the angry-red head of his cock and Jensen’s gasping mouth when Jared pulls him off all the way, just to show off. Yanks at Jensen’s hair, makes him groan with how he’s bending his neck. Jared’s cock pulses on its own, heavy and smearing messy against his thigh. Jake nearly comes off the couch when Jared pushes the Beta back down on it, buries himself to the hilt like it’s his good right.

Jensen heaves again.

“God, he’s so good.” Jared groans. Lifts his hip, squirms up against Jensen’s face, so so far down his throat. “Jen, tell him how much you love my cock.”

Jensen, God bless him, tries.

Unplugs the insane length from the depth of his throat and gulps for air, only half-swallows the foamed mess of his own spit. Works his fist on Jared’s cock like he just can’t leave it alone while he croaks,

“Fuck,” and his voice breaks a little at the end, and Jake has yet to blink. “God, please. So fucking _good_.”

~

Jake can ignore them playing footsie underneath the table. Them, making out during movies they were supposed to watch together, not-so-hurried handjobs with Jake right next to them. Jared, always with his hands on Jensen, somehow. Holding him. Marking him.

It’s revolting, really. Like he’s just some big ol’ puppy, nuzzling up to Jensen—Jensen’s face, his hands, his neck. Jensen complains that it tickles in a tone that ensures how that doesn’t mean he wants it to _stop_.

What hurts are—the too-slow kisses. The hugs. The just—

them.

Them, being around each other. Like it’s never been different. Like Jake never was a factor to consider.

How Jensen would haul groceries into the kitchen and inform, “I got you your disgusting candy shit,” and throw a bag of sour sweets at a surprised Jared, and Jared would gasp in-love and thank him, dig into the bag immediately. Jensen’s expression, then, as he’d watch him. Happy. God, he’s happy lately, isn’t he?

How Jared would quietly fix two cups of coffee, carry them upstairs, with Jake glaring on, reading the paper.

Jensen, telling Jared, “Thank you.” Little things. A touch to his neck, a minor chore, a reminder for something he’d mumbled under his breath about his current script. Jared’s easy, honest, “No problem,” and that smile. That damned smile.

He means it. He really does.

It makes things worse. It does.

When Jensen’s all shower-soft and tired, squirming under the knead of Jared’s hands, reprimanding, “Not that hard, _God_ ,” and Jared apologizing, digging into Jensen’s stiff upper back softer, careful, maybe chasing it with a kiss.

When Jensen’s all flushed and sweetly wet with his breath getting knocked out of him. His whines high in his throat and Jared’s dick punching into places Jake’s never reached, white knuckles in the sheets until Jared blankets those, takes those over, too—muffles him, keeps him, while he coos sweet nothings, empty things.

Jake feels sour, a lot.

~

After dinner, Jake finally gets his chance.

“Honey,” and Jensen half-turns for it, and Jake feels good. “Honey, Donna called regarding her birthday. You know, his mom,” and Jake watches Jared’s face so pointedly-barely reacting to that last verbal nudge towards him, but Jake—he can tell what it’s doing to him. Knows. “She asked if we are free next weekend. You know, family stuff. The usual drill.”

“Yeah, I was wondering when she’d holler. Sure, yeah.” Jensen shrugs, slaps the dishwasher closed.

Jake fully turns towards Jared, basking in his glory. Jared just glares at him. “Haven’t seen them in a while, have we? Your folks.”

“I guess not.”

“Yeah,” continues Jake. “Yeah, they must be wondering what we’ve been up to. Everyone will be there, right?”

Again, firmer, “I guess,” and Jake is on thin ice, but he needs this. He does.

“You’ll be okay on your own, right, Jared?” and the Alpha just cocks his head, thrums his fingers on his forearm.

Tells Jake, “Sure,” and it’s nearly enough to get Jake’s dick hard. God. Yeah. You don’t belong here, asshole.

Nobody introduces their Alpha fuck toy to their family. They just don’t.

Not even Jensen has. Won’t, for all it’s worth. Jake has no clue if they even talk about this kind of stuff. But he does know that Jensen’s folks wouldn’t take well to the news. They’re so traditional, so… _proper_. While Jake hadn’t succeeded in making his man kick out the damn animal, there’s no doubt they would.

They fuck next to him, that night. Like every other night, but this time, it feels different. Or, Jake does.

Triumphant, knowing that—Jared won’t be able to piss on _that_. That there is a place he won’t be able to reach, to conquer, and that he can’t do a damn thing about it.

He smiles, dick in his hand—when suddenly, there’s a push. A shove.

Another.

Jake grunts, “What the,” halfway, before the next sends him clear off the bed.

He flips himself around, pushes up on one elbow to see—Jensen, shocked, staring back at him. Jared, below until he rolls them over, pushes Jensen’s legs up. Glaring down at Jake, on the floor, tangled in his blanket.

“What the—dude!”

“Get the fuck out.”

“I—what?!”

“You deaf now?” Jared shoves himself forward, and Jensen scrambles—holds onto him, startled, and Jake just—drains. Of warmth, of his pride. “Leave, _now_. I don’t care. Fuck off, you’re not sleeping with us tonight.”

“I—you _can’t_ ,” insists Jake. In his panic, he looks back to Jensen, who—is buried, and—wide-eyed. Watching. Not interfering, just…

Jake’s heart skips.

He looks back and forth between the two—in the middle of their bed, taking up all the space. Jared, thrusting up into a tense (but minutely softening) Jensen with his glare fixed tight on Jake, more than a silent threat at this point, and Jake, he—he can’t.

He struggles to his feet, takes his blanket with him. He gasps, “Fuck you,” before he leaves.

He makes sure to bang the door.

~

Jake’s brain makes him stare down at the device way longer than necessary. Still trying to catch up with—well, reality, apparently.

“This, uhm.”

Jake frowns, clear his throat. Dares to look up at his husband who sits opposite to him at the kitchen table, over breakfast and—that thing. Arms crossed tight, face disgruntled like _he’s_ the one getting compromised.

“Uhm, are—have you gone _insane_?”

“He said he’s not touching me until you put this on.”

“You’re…you are serious about this.”

“You bet.”

Lord. No.

Just, no. “No, Jensen. I’m not doing this.” Jake pushes it away from himself, together with his food. “You are _insane_ if you think I’d—”

“Jake,” warns Jensen, “this is _not_ a discussion.”

Jake drags himself through his next inhale. Stares at the device, at his husband.

He opens his mouth, but nothing will come out.

He’s got a meeting at eleven. Needs to fill the car up on gas, after work. Fix dinner and prep lunch (for three people).

Jake blinks. Feels himself frown. God. God, he’s so tired of this. All of it.

What even is he, at this point?

“Can we at least…? One more time?”

Jensen’s eyebrows pop high, merciless. “He said to tell you he’d add one more month if you asked me that.”

“…Can I at least jerk off first?”

“And that’s another two.”

Jensen makes him put it on right then and there in the middle of the kitchen. With Jensen watching, making sure Jake does it right. Or at all.

The plastic feels—odd. Restrictive. His dick stirs just for the attention, for Jensen’s face so unfamiliarly close. Fully encased and locked up, it has nowhere to go, though.

Jake feels sick. Stupid. Looking down on himself, there’s just the—glimpse of half-opaque plastic. The white-ish tint of its layers over the light pink of his skin makes it look alien to himself, like it doesn’t belong—to him.

Jensen snatches the tiny pair of keys from Jake’s numb fingers. “Okay, great. Thank you.”

The day is a nightmare.

As the hours pass him by, out of his reach, out of his control, the realization of what he agreed upon dawns on Jake. What he handed over. How big of a milestone he just let Jared bury him underneath.

Jared wears the sweetest smile, back home.

“Hey, big man,” he flirts, folded deep into his fugly armchair. “What’s for dinner?”

~

It’s the oddest thing.

Not that he had much say in the matter before, but…this is just…horrible.

Terrible.

He can hear them all the way downstairs. Curled up under his blanket, his pillows, his legs drawn up high, Jake can’t even—get hard. Can’t even put a hand on himself, ease the pressure. Nowhere to go, his cock throbs as far as the plastic cage allows, which is basically nothing.

His mind and heart are racing. He feels sick, and he sweats. Stirs, but nothing will—nothing is—

The bedroom door flying open startles Jake so bad he nearly falls off the couch.

“ _Come here_.” (Firm and loud like Jake is nothing but an unruly mutt.)

Jake has no choice but to—get up. Get upstairs.

Jared awaits him with his wet dick in his hand, the keys to Jake’s cock cage threaded onto a necklace that glints silver in the darkness.

Jensen barely-stirs in the bed behind him.

Jared orders, simply, “Clean me up,” and Jake doesn’t expect the shove, the _push_.

Finds himself on his knees, face to face with Jared’s cock, Jared’s hand working the softening heft of it, covered in—everything.

Jensen’s slick. Jared’s come. Jensen’s slick.

Jensen’s slick.

Jake can’t help but swallow, hard.

Jared warns, “I won’t ask twice,” and then, Jake—leans in.

Puts his mouth on it and laps—chases the taste, the texture of—yeah, _yeah_ — _Jensen_. His Jen.

“Better enjoy it,” snarls the Alpha, “that’s the only pussy you’ll be getting for the next few months.”

Jared helps stuffing his dick into Jake’s mouth, and Jake shudders. For the words, the implication. Jensen’s taste and what it does to him, especially after so long, especially with the Beta right there, mere feet away, fucked full and sweet.

Jake grunts. Gets a hand in his hair, gets yanked further, closer. He swirls his tongue along the still-popped veins on the underside of Jared’s cock, the firm, silky skin. The sheer _heat_.

“You’ve been a bad boy for so long, Jake.” Jared steps in closer. Moves Jake’s head with the grip he’s got in his hair. Sneers the words all low, through the hiss of his teeth. “You’re gonna have to prove to me you deserve pussy privileges.”

Surrounded (drowned) by Jensen’s taste, Jensen’s scent, Jake can’t think. The bitter-heavy smack of Alpha come slowly but surely seeps through the bliss of it all, has him gagging anew; pulling back.

Jared yanks him back in.

“Do it right.”

~

Jared just shrugs and keeps chewing his mouthful of cereal, eyebrows drawn high but unimpressed, eyes on Jake. “I mean, I can check on it every other week or so, if that’s what you want?”

“You’re _not_ touching me.”

Another shrug. More cereal. “Showering should do the trick. You’re being way too paranoid about this, man.”

There are things to blow out of proportion, okay, yeah. But Jake is well within his rights to be freaking out.

It’s been a couple of days now. A week and some change. It doesn’t smell or anything (of course he showers, fuck you) but—it can’t be good. Can’t be healthy, to have your cock locked up for this long.

Jake had to tab out of his late-night online research. All those people gleefully sharing their experiences. But he’s not like that. He’s not—that’s just not who he is.

They treat him differently, now, both of them. Like he’s even less of a threat. Less of a man. A neutered pet you keep around for fun.

The Alpha obviously enjoys the knowledge of how much power he has over Jake, of how he managed to further establish his understanding of their roles. He’s cocky around Jake, more verbal than he was before. Talk about kicking a man who’s already down.

Jensen, though.

God, it’s like—a flip has been switched. Like the whole lockup is for Jensen, not Jared’s fucked-up Chad-brain.

He hadn’t even really looked at Jake. Had avoided him. And Jake thinks—it’s not fair. That Jensen’s back to asking him how his day has been. That he’s patting his shoulder, his back. A knee, even, sometimes, at the dinner table with Jared not looking.

Like Jake, getting forced into something he clearly doesn’t want (and forced into _accepting_ it), is all his husband ever wanted.

Did Jake pass some fucking kind of test without noticing?

Jensen’s eyes are wet in the dark.

Jake hears, “Kiss him,” with Jensen’s hands already cupped around his face, and. He can’t even remember the last time they kissed like this.

Like it’s important. Like they have all the time in the world.

Jensen, nestled close, chest to chest. Jake’s arm thrown loose over that waist, his hand modest between Jensen’s shoulder blades—Jensen’s tongue in his mouth, though, kissing, nursing.

Jack heats, and he sweats.

From over Jensen’s shoulder, Jared comments, “Cute,” with a flash of teeth, and Jake shudders in sheer sympathy with his husband. Jensen hums, shifts his hips to accommodate—fingers, Jake guesses. Jared makes him hook his leg over Jake’s hip, snags Jake’s hand to cup behind Jensen’s knee, to hold him open for him. “Keep kissing him, baby,” and, yeah, there it is.

Jensen’s body, blooming—hot. Right up against Jake, the softness of Jake’s sleep shirt, his pajama pants. Bare and warm and groaning deep, like it hurts, like he needs it, and Jake kisses the corner of his mouth, his chin. Fans his fingers wide over a shaved calf (Jensen’s never had much body hair to begin with, but this is—new).

Eyes closed, brows knitted, Jensen rumbles, “Fuck, you’re so deep,” and Jake flushes hotter. Wants to dip down, suck at Jensen’s neck, his tits, his dick. Wants to be part of this, of him.

Jake closes his eyes, too, because he can feel Jared’s glare boring right through his skull.

“Yeah,” goads Jared, “just like you need it.”

It’s—slow, for now. A deep, satisfying churn of Jared’s hips against the plush of Jensen’s ass, and Jensen groans happy, laps back into Jake’s mouth upon being told to, getting his hair petted for it.

“You don’t even know, do you? How soft he is, all the way in there.”

Jake trembles. Gets his earlobe thumbed at, the corner of his mouth. Jensen. Jensen.

“God. It’s like…” Jared trails off. Sucks air through his teeth, jostles Jensen with a first, mean thrust. Just a taste, just a tease. For Jake. “Make yourself useful; here.” He places Jake’s hand on Jensen’s ass, prompts, “Spread him for me, just like that,” and Jake—does. Has Jensen in his arm, moaning, enjoying himself, and—God, Jake could. He could do this, too. Could make Jensen writhe like that, go stupid with it, right? Yes. Yeah.

It used to be—good, them. Fun, especially after a drink or two when it’d be easier to unwind, to let go. Jensen, riding him. Jensen, letting Jake eat him out all soft.

Jake’s mate whimpers, “Fuck,” and all Jake can smell is Jared.

Jared’s breath, Jared’s spit—both fresh and drying on Jensen’s throat, layering over the familiar warmth of his scent glands; Jared’s precome, churning itself deep, rubbing—inside.

Jared’s voice. The growl from within his chest.

Long, long lashes. Pinched mouth; so lost in it.

Jake doesn’t realize he’s staring until Jared’s cupping the back of his head to push him down, towards Jensen’s chest.

Oh, Lord.

Jared rumbles, “Play with them,” to Jensen’s apparent delight, and, yeah—as soon as Jake sucks his mouth over one of Jensen’s nipples, he’s clenching all over. Under Jake’s hand, his glutes, everything. “God,” groans the Alpha, “yeah,” and the mattress dips with how he shifts his weight, gets one leg up to be able to move better, harder. One roaming hand over Jensen’s ass, Jake’s fingers, and Jake nearly slips the touch shocks him that much. “You feel that? How tight he gets when you do that?” and Jake nods, breathless, chin digging forward and all. He can’t think. Doesn’t want to.

Jensen doesn’t seem to mind being pushed around. Shoved into, held open, getting pounded—he’s all putty, all soft. God, he’s wet for it.

They’ve got Jensen face down, ass up; Jake’s knees bracketing his shoulders, boxing him in with Jared snapping into him from behind, jostling the bed, the complementing layer of fat on Jensen’s ass.

“Both hands, c’mon, Jake.”

Jake complies blindly—pries Jensen’s cheeks apart so both Jared and he can watch him seesaw his cock in and out of Jensen’s ass. Up close, their mixed scent is—dizzying. Sickening.

A flash of insides-pink on every downstroke. Jared growls like this is violence.

“So good for me.”

Jake’s teeth clatter with Jared, bumping their foreheads together.

“C’mon,” he hears, mumbled, labored, “c’mon, make him take it. Let me pound that pussy, Jake, stretch him good so he can get that knot—fuck—”

Jensen comes, then. Shuddering and intense, and Jake can smell it, can basically see—his insides, convulsing, sucking at Jared’s cock, begging for more, deeper, please.

Jared growls like thunder and wedges one of his thumbs next to his cock while his knot begins to fill, and Jake can’t do a thing. Can just watch with his eyes glued where Jensen is so pink and perfect, all slick and stretched out. There’s a limp struggle under Jake when Jared sinks his knot in for good, slips his thumb out, lets his knot pop to fullness inside where it’s snug and still quivering. Jensen deflates, then.

A weak whimper, and Jake’s eyes—slam shut once more. He’d pinch his nose closed but that would mean to take his hands off Jensen.

If Jensen can even feel it, as sore as he probably is? These rhythmic, heavy spurts of Alpha come, shooting deep inside?

Jared trembles. Shaky, thick breath. He’s slick with sweat.

Their noses nearly graze each other.

Raw, deep: “You ever feel like being less of a fucking bitch, maybe I’ll let you eat him out once I’m done.”

Jake can’t respond (physically or mentally).

Jake swallows, hard, when Jared tests the tie. Tugs the entire line of Jensen’s body with him, and Jake can only imagine how that must feel. How massive and invasive and horrible, and blinding. A soothing pet to Jensen’s ass.

“Been spoiled,” admits Jared, slurred, when he can pull free after just a couple of minutes. “Get this pussy so often. S’like the wettest fucking dream, baby.”

A belated gush of come gets thumbed back inside, and Jake’s mouth waters stupid.

Jared helps, “Here,” and blankets Jake’s hands with his own to tip-pull Jensen’s ass wide open.

Jake’s neglected cock throbs against the front of his pajamas.

Jared educates, “That’s how deep he likes it,” and Jensen’s insides are so open, so creamed that Jake can see—God—all the way down to his pussy. How it all tries to mouth closed, quivering and raw, but fails. Jensen whines below them, aware of them inspecting him, degrading him.

Some more of Jared’s load bubbles up, but never makes it out.

~

It’s a shock, even though Jake thinks he might have anticipated it.

Jensen, kinda flushed, kinda guilty, maybe—just Jensen and him, by the grill, the late Texan summer heat. Jensen, fumbling with his drink, the too-long fall of his hair combed back under one of his caps. He’s still wearing their ring.

“I’m, we’re—we wanna try. Maybe it doesn’t even… I’ve been on the pill for so long now, so, it’ll probably take a while, but. Yeah.” Jensen nods to himself. “Uhm, yeah.”

Jake thinks to say, “Okay?”

Jared rejoins them with the refrigerated meat. Their friends dribble in, couple after couple. Ice cream cake. Thirty-four, next year. It makes sense. Now or never, probably.

It hits Jake belatedly. When he meets Jared’s eyes on habit, on accident, and Jared’s got one of his huge arms around Jensen, and he’s just—there. Without a question. Nearly a year in their house, now. Just a matter of time.

Jake throws up in the bathroom and blames it on the one and a half beers.

~

A baby would be—good. People have been talking for long enough as is.

It only makes sense.

Vacations would be out of the question for a while, but then again, when did they even travel in the past few years? Nobody barely left the house since Jared moved in. Like the Alpha readjusted everyone’s inner compass. Like he makes this a home, for real. A place to be pulled into, feel safe in. Be a family in.

Nowadays, Jake comes home to a new scent—Jensen, off his birth control. It’s—it shouldn’t be _this_ different, he thinks. Then again, yeah, he’d started them pretty much the moment he presented. Kinda obsessed with it, actually, but that one’s mostly on his parents. Jensen never…he never said he wanted kids. (Never said he _didn’t_ want any, either, but. Jake knows a sign when he sees it.)

Jake hauls this week’s groceries onto the kitchen counter. Jensen’s vitamins get crowded against the tiled backsplash. Behind Jake, there’s the snap of a finger, and he rolls his eyes.

An unimpressed, “Come here,” when Jake ignores the Alpha.

He tosses a bag of oats into the nearest drawer before he drags himself over.

Jared generously plucks one of his earbuds out, uncurls a little from his armchair, doesn’t put his laptop aside. Jake grunts, “What?” but Jared just beckons him closer until he can hold his hand in front of Jake’s face. Jake frowns. “ _What_?”

Jared just looks at him. He smiles. “You smell that?”

Jake’s frown deepens before he understands; he slaps Jared’s hand away. “How old are you, ten?!” and Jared just laughs, deep and amused and aware of how immature he is, and how he absolutely doesn’t care about the latter.

Jake’s already back by the counter when Jared sing-songs, “Almost time,” and Jake stalls in his movement. Grapefruit juice, pink.

It fucks with his head. All of their arrangements. The secrets they have with each other (or, well, things they don’t bother to share with Jake).

Jensen seems—softer. Like things have already changed. Like he’s already pregnant. But it can’t be. Only a couple of weeks of—well. They had been fucking a lot even before.

If anything, they’re going at it _less_ frequently. Saving it up or something equally stupid. Jake prefers to walk out of whatever room Jared tries to corner him in, tease him with his pseudo-scientific bullshit like Jake’s not a fully grown Beta but a pup, awaiting a younger sibling.

“Dude,” he barks, “we have like three restrooms; fuck _off_ ,” but Jared’s not letting go of the door. Jake warns, “Fuck off, I need to go,” but Jared simply tells him,

“So do I,” and doesn’t budge.

Jake scoffs, tosses his head. “Dude—”

“Get over yourself, would you?” The Alpha shoulders past him, is already unzipping his jeans. “You got something I don’t have or sum? Yeah,” and Jake grits his teeth, and Jared’s mouth lifts into a small smirk.

Jake leaves the door open. Who even cares anymore? “I was here first.”

Jared’s grin just widens.

Jake steps up to the toilet. Jared’s already got his dick out, ready to go, and—waiting? Jesus, this is stupid. “You’re such a joke,” he huffs, but it loses all impact with him pulling out his still-caged cock.

He usually sits, nowadays. Everything else just gets—messy, thanks to the cage.

Jake chews the inside of his cheek.

He hears: “Hey, you wanna play a game? You finish last, you get to take that thing off. If you don’t, it stays on.”

Jake frowns. “What the fuck,” but the sheer possibility of… (Until now, Jared hasn’t given him any sort of time frame. And it’s not like Jake can just go ahead and…ask.)

Jared informs, “Nowhere to go but up, man,” like he’s doing Jake a favor. Like this isn’t—like they’re stupid kids. “Or maybe you don’t mind it anymore? Has it grown on you, big boy?”

“Shut up.”

Jared laughs and begins to piss. “C’mon, I’ll give you a head start and all,” and Jake has no clue how bad Jared even needed to go in the first place, and this entire idea is bullshit and probably just a joke, but—hell, nowhere to go but up _indeed_.

Jake bears down until their streams both hit the bowl.

Jared’s stream is heavy and steady, and while Jake’s starts off strong, it soon—stops. And starts. Choppy, failing, and Jake panics, and the mortification doesn’t aid in staying relaxed, letting it flow.

Jared grunt-laughs. “Is that all you got?”

He still has to go, but he just can’t, while Jared pisses like a damn racehorse.

Jake bites back a frustrated sigh.

Jared finishes and pats Jake on the back. “Welp—better luck next time, bud.” He goes to wash his hands. “I should be getting back, don’t want to keep our princess waiting.” Jared winks at him in the mirror. Jake doesn’t look at him.

~

It hadn’t been quite as bad anymore, actually. The cage. Not getting to come. Not with them accepting him back into the bedroom, even if just as a prop.

Sure, Jake wanted to gouge everyone’s and his own eyes out most of the time, still, but. Not _as_ badly.

It’s different, now that there’s this primal factor of reproduction.

And maybe it’s Jared who is changed by it the most (who _changes_ everything the most). He’s been through ruts before, sure, and even Jensen had been pretty shaken up after those, but—this is different. Like the Alpha can’t pick between his position of a stud and a father-to-be.

Jake can’t talk about his feelings, his plans with them. His hopes of—maybe this one’s gonna be Jared’s, and the next one could be Jake’s? And Jake doesn’t even _like_ kids. But the idea of Jensen, heavy with his offspring—when did that become a goddamn _turn-on_?

Shit, this entire baby craze is getting to him.

The constant talk. The way Jensen’s body language changes when the topic comes up. How Jared seems more and more possessive, keeping his hands on Jensen’s stomach, his waist; hovering like a watchdog.

Jared’s calmed down after last weekend’s two-day fuck-a-thon. Hormones, he says. His excuse for everything and anything.

“Hmmm,” he hums, splayed out on top of Jensen’s back. His hips work absently, in the dark.

Jake is on his stomach as well, has his face turned away. Is discreet about fumbling between his legs, massaging his balls. A distant, mellow pleasure. Jensen’s muffled moans are what does it for him the most. Jake doesn’t have to see to know they’re holding hands like teenagers.

“Wanna try him out?” and that’s quiet, croaked and low and Jake thinks he’s imagining it, maybe. But when he turns to check, Jared’s eyes are on him, and his mouth is curled into a tiny smile. “Been a while since you had this pussy, huh?”

Jared tugs at his necklace, the keys.

Jake swallows.

He has no say in how he scoots closer.

Jared scoffs, grunts. Grinds his hips, and Jake’s heart hammers fast. He can’t be serious, but—still. Still.

Once Jared finally pulled free, he paws Jensen’s cheeks apart to show Jake the mess he made. Or: how little of it is his doing. Mainly Jensen’s slick, because Jared’s load is trapped nice and deep in his cunt.

Raw, “On second thought—maybe in a couple of days, huh? You wouldn’t be able to feel anything inside him after me now, anyhow.”

Jake doesn’t dignify that with a response and just slumps down into his earlier spot with a glare.

He hears Jared getting up, eventually, disappearing into the bathroom for a piss. He leaves the door ajar, as per usual. Jake turns to check on Jensen.

He catches him stirring, all sated and heavy. Jake thumbs at his bearded cheek, gets a soft smile, a slurred, “Hey.”

Jensen gets a hold of his hand to nuzzle into it. Jake expects him to pull back once he realizes this is Jake’s hand, not Jared’s, but…no.

Soft kisses for Jake’s palm, his wrist.

Jake watches in disbelief.

His mate is too tired to even open his eyes. Jake cups his face and Jensen says, “Hm,” with his smile growing bigger, blanketing Jake’s hand with his own, holding it there.

Jake’s insides turn painfully.

Jared rejoins them. His weight makes the mattress bounce, shifts around the two Betas already on it, easily. Grunting, on all fours, Jared sniffles, wipes his hair out of his face to half-tie it into a ponytail. He sits back, stark naked, still (always), and the blinds are shut but it’s full-moon-bright outside.

Jake’s hand is still in Jensen’s, on Jensen, and Jake waits for Jared to—he doesn’t even know. Make a dumb comment? Push Jake away? He’s done it before.

But he just—sniffles, again. Bows his head to look where he now splays his hands—Jensen’s thighs. He roams from hips to knees and back, and even in his half-delirious state, Jensen reacts. Moves with him, for him—parts his legs, fully rolls to his back. His hand clutches back at Jake’s when Jake intertwines their fingers.

A soft, “Come here,” and Jake hesitates, but—he does.

Jared pushes Jensen’s legs up until they’re nearly touching his shoulders. On his knees, still, hands firm in the back of Jensen’s knees, he buries his face in Jensen’s ass after a quick kiss to his taint, his balls.

Jake’s swallow feels dry.

Coming up, Jared adds, “Watch,” like Jake has to be told.

The noises coming from Jensen’s upper half are muffled. He probably can’t even breathe right. Jared slurps at him, absolutely obscene, absolutely messy. Jared’s tongue is huge, just like the rest of him.

Jensen whimpers like it’s too much, and it might be. Jared had knotted him twice, tonight. A handful of orgasms. His ass is still blown wide open.

Jared nurses on it, on all that slippery-sore tissue. Jake can tell whenever he play-digs his teeth in, because Jensen jolts all over for it every time.

Jared’s eyes are closed in bliss. Nobody should enjoy eating their come out of someone’s ass to this extent, really.

At this point, Jake is right next to Jared’s face.

Jared rearranges his hold on Jensen’s legs to one of his forearms so he has one hand available to bring it to his mouth. Thumbs against Jensen’s tailbone, the sparse hairs up his gash, until he slips and hooks it where he’s fucking his tongue into. Jake’s mouth waters with the easy, deep slide, with Jensen’s barely-there squirm. Jared’s thumb comes out glistening wet before it pumps back inside.

Oh, God, Jake needs it so bad.

Feeling him. Tasting him. Pushing his dick in there, his fingers; anything.

“Yeah,” says Jared, to nothing and no one in particular, and he moves his mouth up to suck at Jensen’s taint, exchanges his thumb for middle, ring and pointer finger.

Jensen’s moan is muffled. Jake can’t look away from how firm Jared’s knuckles churn against Jensen’s ass, how the muscles in his hands and wrist pulse to fuck at the Beta’s long-overworked sweet spot.

“Always so fucking wet for it,” and, yeah, when Jared pulls his fingers free to shake out his wrist, they’re shiny with slick. No trace of Jared’s come laced in anymore, just—Jensen. All Jensen’s.

Jared catches Jake staring at how he tucks his messy fingers into his own mouth, easy as that. A sheepish smile, and Jake imagines the flash of a tongue between the webs of Jared’s fingers before he gets them out again, holds them right under Jake’s nose.

Jake doesn’t slap his hand away, this time.

It’s—Jake can’t describe it.

If hunger was a scent. If someone were to tie a rope around his ribcage and _tug_.

“I’ll make him squirt,” promises Jared, too-close, too-warm; and again: “Watch.”

Jake remembers, way back, when Jensen and he still had a regular sex life. That one night where they felt extra wild and pulled up some Omega porn, just to see what it’s like, didn’t you always kinda _wonder_? Those two girls with their hands inside each other and the Alpha stepmom or whatever walking in and wrecking them to hell and back—Jensen’s eyes had been so wide, so shocked. The taboo of it, the O’s and the whole incest thing of course and neither of them had really paid attention to that because they went with the thumbnail and the girls looked cute, and. Lord, Jensen had been—he’d been so _helpless_ about it, push-pulling at Jake and all tense and, _no, not that hard, oh, oh, I’m—Jake_. He had been tender around Jake for nearly a week, and they had agreed—no more videos, for now, yeah, I dunno, it was fun but…we don’t have to do that again anytime soon.

Jared knees closer so he can prop Jensen up on his thighs, and while his dick is fattening and leaking already-again, he’s laser-focused on his arm, on the noises he’s banging out of Jensen with nearly his entire hand up his pussy.

Jake thinks he sees—in the corner of his eye—Jared, smirking, when Jensen begins to shake apart. When he flushes, heavy, and his balls draw up and his untouched cock spurts the last available blurts of come into the folds of his own belly, his chest. His helpless wail when Jared doesn’t let up on him. Not until he’s decided it’s over.

Jake’s throat is dry by the time Jared’s wrist slows down to a leisurely, deep pump. When he finally lets Jensen’s legs go and they drop entirely undignified, heavy; soothes a hand up Jensen’s side, through the sticky mess of sweat and come on his stomach, in his navel.

Jensen’s breath sounds more like sobbing than anything.

“Show’s over,” hums Jared. His palm rubs Jensen’s come into Jensen’s skin, into the quiver of his still-shuddering stomach. Jake looks up at Jared—is met with cold, blown-out eyes, basically black. “Get out of my sight.”

As he stumbles out and downstairs, he thinks Jared’s hollering after him to go _play with your spreadsheets or something_ , but he’s too dizzy to really care.

~

Jake is not—jealous.

Who would be jealous of a dog?

This—animal. It’s what he is. An animal with instincts, with _a damned good nose_.

(It’s fucked up to be able to tell things just based on smell. It’s not natural. That’s what sciences are for, psychology. Jake doubts half of the shit Jared says is true.)

“Your bitch here probably can’t tell, but I _know_ ,” grunted and insistent and slapping into Jensen, a feral grin; a glint in Jared’s eye. Just another Sunday morning with the Alpha waking up in a rut, which probably means Jensen is ovulating, and Jake feels like he’s got a fever. “We’re gonna be a family, Jake. Who’s your daddy?”

Jake manages, “Shut the fuck up, Jared,” but the beast interrupts,

“ _Beg_ ,” and Jensen yelps for the pinch to the back of his neck, to Jared’s hand wringing around his throat from below.

They’re nearly prone with Jensen squished between the Alpha and their bed, with Jared hammering into him like this is a sport. Jared is always kinda nasty, but ruts truly bring out the ferocity in him.

(Jake’s heard him apologizing before, through those late-night whispers, soft touches to Jensen’s back, Jensen’s stomach— _you know how I get, the way you smell? It’s like my brain does a one-eighty. Like nothing else matters._ )

“Beg me to come inside your husband, bitch.”

Jensen’s immediate, “Please,” shakes Jake to his core—panic, now, all of a sudden, because, oh, God, this is really happening, right? Now? This is it? “Do it, Jake, fuck, please, do it—!”

“I—please, I—”

“‘Come inside my husband’.”

Jake mirror-stammers, pale and heated at the same time, “C-come inside my—my husband, Alpha,”

and that’s that. That’s it.

Jared snarls, “Huh, if you ask so _nicely_ ,” and he goes even harder on Jensen, and Jake’s trembling himself, and it all happens so—fast.

Jensen, rushing right over that edge, seizing like a wild horse; Jared, still on top, snatching his hand even tighter around Jensen’s throat, goading him on, the scent and pulse of his knot, getting coaxed to fullness by the surely choking pulls of Jensen’s insides—and Jake, Jake’s body, overwhelmed and neglected and unaware, and he comes, too, despite the cage, despite it being so different and just hotliquidwrong blurting out of him, into his boxers. Jake gasps, shocked, humiliated—Jared roars like he hurts, and then they’re tied—Jensen and him, Jensen and Jared.

The Alpha clenches all around Jensen; arms and legs and hands. Squeezes him tight, his hand curled underneath and around Jensen’s heaving chest, his face hidden in the crook of Jensen’s neck. He rocks, quick and sudden like a muscle cramp, and maybe it _is_ painful. Maybe it is.

You can hear how fucking soaked the Beta is. How Jared, despite all better knowledge, tugs his knot back too-far on every other stroke, just to coax another fight out of Jensen’s too-used insides. The scent of Jensen, though—sour-sweet, so so thick and debilitating, and Jared’s come gushing up inside only heightens that scent.

Jensen surges with a noise that, thanks to the choke-hold Jared’s got on him, comes out terribly garbled. A sob that fades further with Jared, nipping at the back of his throat, the side of it. A low rumble between their chests, like something in Jensen is snarling right back. Like the Alpha’s rut pulls him under, too.

Jake’s breath rattles out of him; and he stirs, curls in on himself, closer to Jensen, to them. Stammering, “Jen,” and Jared growls at him, out of his mind and not himself, not right now. Jensen is just—gasping, melting. Jake doesn’t quite dare help brushing his sweat-slick hair out of his face for him.

It might have worked, this time, and Jake doesn’t know how he knows, but he does.

Jensen, all soft and tired; buried. Humming low and deep, like sinking into a bed, a bath. Like waking up to a beautiful, sunny day.

That limp hand, weakly curled around Jared’s biceps; Jensen’s thumb, stroking the available skin.

He noses into Jensen’s hair, behind his scarlet ear. Whimpers, because another wave of his ruined orgasm snags at his balls, and he humps the bed, and in a blind, sudden move, Jared finds the back of his neck and presses him down, into the pillow. Jared’s nails dig into him, into his hairline, and Jake can’t breathe. Has his eyes squeezed shut and he can’t move, and maybe, in an afterthought, he doesn’t want to, either.

~

It’s hard to tell what goes on in Jared’s head, most days. Always seems to be making plans, always has an answer. Hovering, controlling. Everything. Nobody promoted him to head of the household. It just happened.

When Jake is called upstairs, he thinks—maybe because he’d been too hands-on with Jensen, lately. Petting around the swell of his stomach, that intoxicating, rapidly growing bump. Too openly, maybe. Swarming around Jensen in stores, making sure no one would come close, even though: with Jared right there, who would even dare?

It’s been a year, too. Ever since then. That day of Jake, finding out in this very room. Watching his husband cheating on him and realizing Jensen doesn’t care if Jake knows.

Jake blinks at the machine by the makeshift bed, on the floor, next to the actual bed. At Jared, patting the thing with a smile on his horrible, horrible face.

“Happy anniversary.”

Jensen chastises, “Jared,”

but Jared laughs, “What?” and flops back down next to Jensen; boxers only, all tanned and warm skin on display, the deep cut of his muscles, the kinda-expensive watch Jensen got him for his birthday this year. The damn keys dangling from his neck, still, like a goddamn trophy. Jared keeps looking at Jake as he buries his face in the warmth of Jensen’s fattening chest, begins to ruck up one of Jared’s soft, too-big tees Jake’s husband likes to steal from the laundry (and is somehow still wearing, despite the two of them on the bed with Jared’s hands on him). “C’mon, you deserve a treat. Half a year in that thing, I figured you’d like to play around.”

Oh. Yeah. That, too. “Screw you. Seriously.” Jared laughs, but Jake adds, “If you’re trying to be nice? Give me the damn keys.”

“Wow, okay? Careful there,” and Jake’s teeth grit, and his fists hang limp next to his hips. “You wanna piss me off? Seriously?” Jared raises his eyebrows at him, nods back towards the machine. “You know how much that thing cost? You better be grateful you’re getting anything at all.”

Jake glares at the setup. A fucking machine with a dildo mounted on it. Jake is everything but proud that he recognizes the shape, the size. Down to the circumcision scar, it’s all—Jared.

His anger flushes his face into a deeper heat.

Jensen soothes, “Maybe just try it? See what it’s like?” and while Jake wants to give him a piece of his mind, Jared is still quicker.

“That’s the point: he already knows he’s gonna love it, but he’s too much of a bitch to admit it.”

Jake’s chest rumbles with a suppressed growl.

“C’mon, beggars can’t be choosers, Jakey.”

“I’m _not_ gonna use that.”

Jared informs, nuzzled up against Jensen’s (now bare) breastbone: “You know I can smell how fucking wet you get every time you watch us fuck, right?”

Jake’s mouth opens, and closes.

It opens again.

(Not _that_ wet, you ass.) “I’m—it’s not gonna work on me,” he stammers, and Jensen doesn’t look—shocked. Like he’s pitying Jake, maybe, because of course Jensen knows about _that_. They’d been over that pretty early, and Jensen had never been a jerk about it.

All Betas get wet. Of course they do. That doesn’t mean they— _like_ it.

Jared purrs, “Look,” and Jake feels too much on display, more threatened than usual with two of Jared’s dicks in the room. Jared’s been too cocky lately, too high on the fact that he put a baby into Jake’s mate. Has been pushing boundaries from day one, but, Lord, Jake is still—he’s still a _person_ , goddammit. Still _a man_. “How about this: you have some fun with it while we have some fun of our own, and if you manage to not come all over yourself before we’re done, the cage comes off. And it’s not going back on again, ever.”

Jake’s face contorts with his anger, his repulsion.

He—he wouldn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t enjoy that kinda stuff; after years of blocking it out he had been kinda forced to try it again thanks to the cage, of course, but even then— Jared _knows_ this. He _must_ already know. “You’re joking,” he croaks, and Jared shakes his head, raises his hands in innocence.

“Hundred percent real, man. I’m no monster,” and Jake can’t even scoff he’s so out of it. “Take this as a—peace offering, huh?” (There’s no real humor left in Jared’s tone anymore.) “I’m not mad, and you’ve been trying so hard to be good. I mean it, Jake.”

Jake rushes, “Okay? Fuck you, better get the damn keys ready then, because it’s not gonna _work_ ,” and Jared just shrugs, and Jensen sinks his teeth into his own lip.

Jake pulls his shirt off, tosses it away, just because.

They’re both looking at him. Waiting.

Jake rumbles, “Fuck,” and starts moving.

Runs his hands back through his hair, rids himself of his pants, his underwear. Socks, too. God, why did he take off his shirt.

Jared leers, “Looking good,” and Jake snarls at him to shut up.

Jensen, then: “You need lube or anything, babe?” but Jared kisses him, then, apparently, because all Jake hears is them, sucking on each other. One way or another, really.

On all fours, he panics. Doesn’t know what to do.

He looks back—at the toy. The machine.

They’re still watching him, aren’t they? God.

This is bad.

Lube, yeah. A small bottle propped up by the edge of the comforter Jared spread on the floor for him, and Jake grabs for it, squeezes some on his fingers.

He’s hot. God, they’re moving fast, up on the bed.

Jensen’s little moans. Jared, probably sucking on his tits. The wet pop of his mouth whenever he lets go of one to get to the other.

Jake’s head spins. He cringes for—one finger. Two.

It just feels—wrong.

He isn’t that kind of Beta. Never was.

Just get through with it. The cage will come off, and hell, Jared might mean it. After all, Jensen’s already pregnant. What could Jake even do anymore at this point?

The machine whirrs alive behind him and Jake nearly leaps like a frog.

A chuckle; “It won’t bite,” and Jake glares up at Jared, folding Jensen’s pretty hand around the remote, and he watches the toy, pumping. So slow, but still…Lord, it’s molded after an actual Alpha dick. What do you expect?

Jake looks down between his legs; tugs at his caged dick, his balls, and groans. Cheek on the floor, he keeps fingering himself. Nothing Jared hasn’t seen, probably. Jake’s not in the same league as Jensen, of course, but. He can feel the Alpha staring, if only out of curiosity.

Jake huffs. It’s uncomfortable. Gonna be much more uncomfortable in just a second.

Jensen gasps, “Fuck,” when Jake finally gets over himself and begins to line up the tip of the toy with his significantly unwilling asshole, and a warm squelch announces that Jared chose this moment to press a bunch of fingers into Jensen’s cunt.

Jake slowly, carefully, sinks back against the gently bobbing toy.

He grunts. Palms his ass open; helps.

It’s—insanely big.

It hurts. Burns, that stretch, the—hell, Jensen gets this every night. Moans and writhes on it and Jake’s gonna fucking die from it. He forces another half an inch inside before he has to pause, has to knead at his locked dick. Oh, fuck. Oh, this is bad.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to take the whole thing. If Jared will let it count if he doesn’t. If he’ll make him take it nevertheless.

“Oh, baby,” and Jensen moans over the coos, Jared’s kisses. “You love that, don’t you? All just because he wants your pussy back so bad. He’d do anything for you, wouldn’t he?”

Jensen’s trembly, “Uh-huh,” blooms hot in Jake’s guts. Yes. Yeah.

The pregnancy had been great, so far. No complications. Jensen had been emotional, yes, but so had all of them. More cuddles, more softness. More long looks between Jensen and him. Jensen, inviting him close, here, you wanna touch?

Jake sinks further back. Thinks he hears Jensen, gasping for that first, violent breach as well. Jared, though, sinking in without preamble. A slow, heavy push.

Jake’s fingers feel for the toy, the ridiculous (and, unfortunately, realistic) veins, the sticky lube. He adds some more, lets it grind deeper. Lord. Lord, it’s—he never thought his body could even take something this big.

Up on the bed, things are getting heated. Not as intense as usual, these days, and Jake’s only halfway down the toy when he hears Jared’s murmured,

“I’ll match it, baby. However you like.”

Jake splutters a curse when the machine immediately picks up depth and speed.

It corkscrews into his ass and pops past the tense-feeling clutch of his pussy on accident, and—he hasn’t, in forever, and it’s—oh, God, he gasps, and Jensen thumbs the remote to the next level already. Skips the next.

Jake goes down to one elbow. Holds his locked junk with the other hand, tight.

Jared laughs, “Fuck,” and it sounds off, sounds wrong, too-close. Like it worms into Jake’s skull, his spine—grabs him by his womb and _squeezes_.

Jake drops his head, forehead to blanket. He doesn’t even have to move for the fake cock to rub right across all these insanely good spots he didn’t even fucking know he _had_.

Sounds like Jared is matching its speed all right.

God, oh no—

Oh no.

Jake bites into his hand to muffle his noises but it feels like Jared’s, “C’mon, come _on_ ,” isn’t for Jensen’s impatient whines alone.

“Fuck, I—Jesus Christ,” and that’s Jensen, reaching down to pull Jake back and right down to the root of the toy.

Jake comes so hard and sudden that it nearly takes out his knees underneath him.

The machine pummels into him at breakneck speed, ignoring how tight he is or how bad he’s squirming around it—it doesn’t slow down, not at all, and Jake can’t do much more but gasp and shake through another surge of his release.

It’s endless. One flows into the other, the other, the next.

The couple on the bed doesn’t sound much better than him.

He faintly is aware of the machine slowing, eventually. Not coming to a halt, no, but—slow. Still so so fucking deep, but—not jackhammering his pussy anymore.

A slow drag, and maybe that’s worse.

Oh, _God_ , he’s wet.

A hand comes down over his ass in a sharp, stinging slap. Probably not Jensen’s hand.

They leave him alone, after that.

~

It’s dark when Jakes comes to.

Someone draped a blanket over him. It’s completely quiet in the upstairs of his house. Not without struggle, he sits up. Looks around. God, his head. His _ass_.

Slimed and sticky, still, between his legs. The embarrassing evidence of his failure. God, he can’t even think about it. Jake makes it to the bathroom, the shower. He pulls a fresh set of clothes from one of his two remaining drawers in the closet to put on before he drags himself downstairs.

Jensen already occupies one of the chairs at the table. Jake avoids eye contact. He quietly fixes himself a bowl of cereal at the counter, instead. He’ll grab an Aspirin, go back to bed. A big meeting, tomorrow; he should rest up while he can.

The TV is on, even though muted. Some cartoon. Jared snores on the couch with one arm and one leg dangling from it, grazing the floor. His laptop is open, on the coffee table ( _one hundred-thirty-seven thousand results for ‘pregnant foot massage’_ ) _._

A quiet, “Hey,” and Jake tries not to listen. Not to pay attention. Jensen’s voice is rough-thin like it’s past midnight already. “Jake, please. C’mere.”

Jake—does.

Jensen cups his cheek. He smells like pickles and chocolate spread. Jake’s brow furrows.

“Hey,” again. “How are you feeling?”

Jake grumbles, “Like someone parked a goddamn truck in my ass,” and Jensen chortles a little. Just a little, though.

When Jake dares to look his husband in the eye, he’s all gentle. All soft.

And, God, is he gorgeous.

Jensen deserves better. Better than—Jake. A weak, pathetic little bitch like Jake. Who was he trying to kid all this time?

Jensen tells him, “You know that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do, right?” and Jake has the sudden urge to clear his throat, blink his eyes.

Instead, he grumbles: “Uh—you’re welcome.”

Jensen kisses him into the corner of his mouth. On his lips, next. There’s that first ultrasound picture, pinned to their fridge.

Jake closes his eyes.

Jensen keeps them, like this. Just being, breathing. Forehead to forehead, Jake’s face in his hand.

“How are you?” murmurs Jake, then, and Jensen’s mouth quirks to a baby-smile.

“I’m good, babe,” he says, and kisses Jake again.


End file.
